^swtJ AND parthenophe*   sonnets.  371

MAD RJ GAL   12.

ike to the Mountains, are mine high desires;
Level to thy love's highest point : Grounded on faith, which thy sweet grace requires.
For Springs, tears rise in endless source, For Summer's flowers, Love's fancies I appoint.
The Trees, with storms tossed out of course, Figure my thoughts, still blasted with Despair.
Thunder, lightning, and hail
Make his trees mourn : thy frowns make me bewail! This only difference 1 Here, lire ; there, snows are 1

SONNET   LI II.

hy do I draw my breath, vain sighs to feed ;
Since all my sighs be breathed out in vain ?
Why be these eyes the conduits, whence proceed
These ceaseless tears, which,for your sake ! do rain ? Why do I write my woes ! and writing, grieve
To think upon them, and their sweet contriver ;
Begging some comfort^ which might me relieve,
When the remembrance is my cares' reviver ? Why do I sue to kiss; and kiss, to love;
And love, to be tormented ; not beloved ?
Can neither sighs, nor tears, my sorrows move By lines, or words ? nor will they be removed ?
Then tire not, Tyrant! but on mine heart tire I
That unconsumedj I burn* in my Desire.